


In Every Heartbeat

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Cuddling, Garbage Emotions for Garbage Characters, M/M, Melancholy, Soft Kylux, mild pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hux falls asleep quickly, before the afterglow has left him.  He’s lying on his back, arms nearly folded across his chest, head tilted to the opposite side so that the only features Ren can make out are his strong brow and the gentle slope of his cheek.~He breathes in as Ren does and exhales slowly, eyes flicking up to Ren’s expressionless face. Hux lifts his hand up to Ren’s mouth, barely allowing his fingers to graze Ren’s lips, dry and chapped. He can feel Ren’s breaths gently brush his fingers, and he swallows against a feeling of reluctant warmth.





	1. Ren

Hux falls asleep quickly, before the afterglow has left him. He’s lying on his back, arms nearly folded across his chest, head tilted to the opposite side so that the only features Ren can make out are his strong brow and the gentle slope of his cheek. Ren bites his lip.

He should go. He should definitely go. Hux won’t be pleased if he’s still here when he awakes.

That is how Hux presented it to him, some mere hours ago, when Ren had finished his habitual workout and was preparing to leave. As he made his way to the door to the gym, he had been shocked silent by the sight of Hux standing en route, waiting for him.  
Despite his significantly thinner frame, Hux seemed to block Ren’s sight of the door, the greatcoat draped over his shoulders filling out the slim silhouette he usually cut. With his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, he looked the perfect picture of an inconvenienced general.

And then he leaned in, and said: “If I invite you to my bed, Ren, will I regret it?”

Ren felt his heart swoop down to the pit of his stomach. His skin, overheated from exertion, suddenly felt almost cold, and the fine layer of sweat covering his skin turned tacky with anxiety. “What?” Ren asked, aghast.

“It can’t be anything more than that,” the general said, as if that clarified his statement any further.

Ren simply stared, at a loss for words.

“Well, Ren? Will you join me tonight?”

He did, of course.

Ren’s previous experiences, teenage fumblings from a different life, paled in comparison to the general’s skilled touch, and as he shuts his eyes now, he can almost feel the phantom touch of Hux’s slender hands against him, at his cheek, along his chest, gripping his thighs. The general had seemed pleased by his relative inexperience, for some reason Ren finds ultimately unfathomable.

Hux shifts in his sleep, the arm closest to Ren slipping from his chest and landing on the mattress beside him, palm up.

Slowly, so as not to disturb the other man, Ren reaches forward and traces his calloused fingers along Hux’s forearm. He finds himself fascinated by the translucent nature of Hux’s skin -- the blue veins are clearly visible, and gently he begins to trace them from Hux’s wrist to elbow. He considers, for a wild moment, the fact that the blood rushing through these veins feeds and powers his fearsome mind. Now that Ren is concentrating, reaching out with the Force, he can feel as his heart, buried underneath his lean chest, thunders through its inexorable beat.

He is hit with a sudden craving, a devouring desire to feel the other man’s heart completing its steady task. Ren gently pushes himself off the bed, balancing carefully on his forearms, and shuffles in closer to Hux. He shifts down on the bed, so that Hux’s arm will slot underneath Ren’s neck, and so that his head will be able to rest just above Hux’s heart.

He lowers his head slowly, careful not to disturb the other man, fearfully aware of how harsh Hux’s reaction will be. He can still smell sex and sweat on Hux’s skin, and the sensation sends a rush of heat through him. (He had done that -- it was because of him that Hux was saturated in this scent, and nothing Hux said or did to him would ever be able to take that away.) He desperately tries to stave away the rush of possessiveness, but then his cheek is flush with Hux’s skin and all thoughts of stripping the emotion from this encounter flee him utterly.

His eyes flicker shut. He can hear Hux’s heart clearly now, each contraction of muscle a thunderclap in his ear. It’s imbued with a sense of comfort Kylo Ren long since abandoned -- comfort he thought alien to his own ambitions and desires. He is beginning to realize how wrong he was: these gentle touches suddenly seem to him far more important than any of his other goals, more important than even his training. There’s a sudden lump in his throat, and he swallows harshly against it, ignoring the burning of his eyes.

Hux is an ambitious man, too. Despite their differences, he is driven by desire for power, just like Ren. Perhaps … Ren considers, perhaps Hux, too, had thought himself beyond such things, when in fact...

A breathy noise like a sigh escapes his lips - not quite a whimper. Best not to hope. Certainly not now, while Hux is peacefully asleep, and Ren still has to work up the strength to pull away from him, dress in the workout clothes they left strewn in Hux’s entranceway, and make the long walk back to his own quarters before the corridors grew busy from shift change. It seems an insurmountable task.

Ren bites his lip harshly, vowing to listen to Hux’s heart for 300 more beats - that would translate to roughly five minutes. Five minutes more of this indulgence, and then he would be on his way. He counts to one hundred before his eyelids begin to truly droop. He forces his eyes open, sucking in a deep breath and focusing his eyes on Hux’s other hand, which rests centimeters away from Ren’s nose.

The hand twitches, and Ren freezes, losing count in his mind. He can feel Hux’s heart speed up beneath his cheek, just slightly.

“Ren?” Hux’s voice is soft in the dark, more groggy than anything else. Ren holds still, even holds his breath. He’s not sure what he intends to do - it’s obvious he’s still here, Hux isn’t going to be fooled by him freezing like a cornered womprat.

Ren feels Hux’s head shift toward him, his chin brushing against the black curls that fan out along Hux’s chest. The hand in front of him doesn’t move, but suddenly there are fingers buried into his hair, gently massaging his scalp. It’s Hux’s other hand, the one beneath him.

“I know you’re still awake,” Hux says, mild irritation making him sound a little more like himself. Ren tilts his head forward, pressing his nose against Hux’s skin and clamping his eyes shut, hoping against hope that Hux will leave him be. At least allow him to leave on his own terms.

A hum rumbles in Hux’s throat and chest, halfway between amusement and irritation. “Go to sleep, Ren.”

Ren’s mouth opens before he can even think: “Here?” He hears the astonishment in his own tone, and his cheeks flush involuntarily. He’s endlessly grateful for the darkness of Hux’s quarters.

“Where else?” Hux murmurs. His fingers scratch lightly at Ren’s scalp, and Ren feels his shoulders relax automatically. “You should probably leave after second shift change - I’ll be on the bridge at 0400, but there’s no need for you to wake up that early.”

An involuntary noise escapes Ren’s throat, half a moan and half a sigh. He can hear the smile in Hux’s voice as he says: “Go the kriff to bed, Ren.”

Ren nuzzles Hux’s chest, hiding a smile against him. After a moment’s pause, he slips one hand underneath Hux’s chest, and when there is no objection, wraps the other across his stomach. A sigh of contentment escapes Hux, and Ren feels a smile tug at his lips.

Ren falls asleep to the sound of Hux’s steady heartbeat in his ear.


	2. Hux

Hux stands, back against the wall, in a private suite in the med center. He holds his datapad up, the perfect picture of a preoccupied general- save his eyes, which, despite his best efforts, continually drift up from the screen in front of him to focus on the unconscious form of Kylo Ren.

The buzz of medworkers around him has finally begun dwindle as he's stabilized. Hux watches surreptitiously as the final assistant gives a brisk nod before exiting the private room, taking the medipad with health readouts with her. The door shuts behind her, giving its customary beep to signify limited access. Then, and only then, does Hux allow his arm to drop to his side, discarding his datapad on a medical tray to his right with a quiet weary sigh.

Hux doesn't move. He's not sure he'll be able to. The aftermath of Starkiller's destruction, the rush to the surface to find Ren: it has left him feeling drained. Drained of heart, mind, and body.

The sight of Ren does little to revive him. He's alive, certainly, and Hux may yet prove able to deliver him Snoke, which could grant Hux a slightly longer lease on life following this fiasco, but…

Hux isn't used to feeling so much regret.

He lowers his eyes, so that his lashes block the line of sight to the unconscious Force user. He lifts his gloved hand up to his face, harshly rubbing at the bridge of his nose. The leather catches against his skin, and Hux feels a wave of revulsion at his own state of dishevelment.

How did he allow their trysts to devolve so incredibly that the moment which ought to have been their victory had become their defeat? How did he manage to engender in Ren such bitterness? And how, for star’s sake, had he allowed himself to become so selfish and futilely possessive that he could no longer stand the sight of Ren, knowing that the man could never be his and his alone?

They have made many mistakes, and Hux feels each, pulsing in his bloodstream, thrumming with disappointment.

But through the haze he hears something.

No, not hears, not exactly: a sensation, prickling at the edges of his weary mind. A kind of tug. Something colored with a sense of cold power, harsh edges and yet, a gentle harmonic tone of warmth and fondness...

_Hux._

It’s tired, and hopeful, and longing all at once, and Hux’s heart feels twisted, like the veins and aortas have been tangled together in a horrible mess and the only way to unwind them--

Hux’s eyes raise slowly, training themselves on the man lying prone on the hospital bed. He looks strangely small like this, unlike the other times Hux has seen him in bed; those times, though, he was heavy and present, curled around--

_Hux._

Hux clutches the throat fixture of his uniform reflexively, fighting to ignore the constriction of his airways.

He can’t say no.

What if Ren isn’t even asking? What if this is just Hux’s construct, his own desperation manifest?

He still can’t bear it.

His leg trembles underneath him at the first step. He feels like a newborn [GEMBOK], hardly able to propel himself across the room. Forcefully, he pushes past his own discomfort. He reaches Ren’s bedside and immediately drops his hand to grip the metal railing along the foot of the bed.

Ren doesn’t stir.

And Hux still feels too far away.

The side railing has been lowered on Ren’s left side, to allow for ease of treatment, as far as Hux can surmise. Ren takes up more than half of the bed, but Hux manages to sit at the edge of the bed, then, slowly, lift a leg at a time onto the mattress.

He feels absurd, still wearing his full uniform and even his kriffing boots, lying ramrod straight in a too-small bed beside his professional rival. His professional rival of whom he has carnal knowledge. Who nearly died. For whom Hux… cared, very deeply, despite both of their efforts.

A breath escapes him, just slightly too loud, and he shifts himself slowly onto his side, resting his head on one arm. From here, he can watch the steady rise and fall of Ren’s chest.

He breathes in as Ren does and exhales slowly, eyes flicking up to Ren’s expressionless face. Half of it is still covered in bandages, and the exposed half is slack and unmoving. Hux lifts his hand up to Ren’s mouth, barely allowing his fingers to graze Ren’s lips, dry and chapped as a consequence of the climate on the surface of Starkiller and his injuries. He can feel Ren’s breaths gently brush his fingers, and he swallows against a feeling of reluctant warmth.

Hux feels exhaustion dogging him belatedly, dragging his eyes shut. His hand, too, drops, nearly smacking Ren in the face. Hux yanks his hand away, eyes darting to Ren’s face to ensure he hasn’t been disturbed.

He’s still sleeping peacefully, but so still. Hux’s eyes zero in on the pulse in his throat, suddenly reluctant to shut his eyes without a reassurance of Ren’s continued well being.

Hux leans forward, gently laying his forearm across Ren’s chest, just above the violent gash in his side. As long as he’s indulging himself…

He lowers his head to Ren’s chest, gently laying it so that his ear aligns to the sound of Ren’s heartbeat. Shutting his eyes firmly, Hux breathes in, inhaling the antiseptic scent of bacta and the underlying musk of Kylo Ren.

Ren’s heartbeat is slower and quieter than his own, muted by sleep. Hux’s shoulders are rigid, his head held up by his straining neck. He feels himself slipping on a precipice. Torn between his own self-imposed propriety and that internal tug, he clenches the hand on Ren’s torso into a fist.

Is it Ren, or is it himself? He wishes he wasn’t wearing his gloves. That way he would feel the sharp pinpricks of pain in his palm from uncut nails. He’s been too preoccupied to wash his face, let alone clip his nails. When will this agonizing sense of impending doom let up? When Ren heals? When Hux finds himself at the end of that saber, for crimes against their master?

The steady cadence of Ren’s heart slows his thoughts. It pulls him, promising reward if he just gives in.

A gentle caress against his mind, that same blend of cold edges and warm underbelly: _Hux._

He forces his shoulders to relax, letting his head rest more heavily on Ren’s chest. Is it his imagination, or does he really feel the pulse of Ren’s blood in his own, burning in his ear, throbbing to the same beat?

Perhaps it is his imagination.

Yet, as he closes his eyes against the bright white lights of the medcenter, it’s the only thing that remains, grounding him, assuring him that Ren is still here.

That he’s still alive.

And it’s to that refrain that Hux finally drifts off, fingers and face still lined with blood and dirt, arms wrapped around the one man who would be able to destroy him.


End file.
